Dear Martin
by robspace54
Summary: Louisa decides to contact Martin from her self-imposed exile in London. Should be simple, right? Well perhaps not.


**Dear Martin**

By robspace54

Dear Martin,

I think it best that we stay in touch, although I have moved to London. The way that I slunk off was frightful and hurtful and I am sorry about that. It has been quite hard moving house. Plus I miss the sea and the village. Getting my first breath of London smog and the people crowding the pavement and the markets was, well, frightening, at first.

I have a tiny bedsit three Tube stops from the school where I am teaching remedial maths, basic earth science, and beginning algebra. There are one or two students that remind me of Peter Cronk, as far as their intelligence goes, and the way that they popup with the most amazing insights at times, takes my breath away.

Here's the thing.

I am pregnant. WE are pregnant.

You're likely as surprised as I am for we did use protection. I know we did as you insisted that we do so. But here we, I, am…with child.

My new OB confirms a date of 25 June and the baby is coming along quite healthy. I have been getting a reasonable amount of exercise, have given up wine (of course!) and been eating plenty of veg, fruit and lean meats. I am doing well.

All of a bit of a shock, I know. Thirty seven and preggers is not quite how I hope to spend my first winter in London.

I want you to be involved with this baby. Please call my mobile.

Sincerely,

Louisa

_I sat back and read the note over. It sounded factual and direct. I should think a bit before I email it, though. Perhaps a walk would help clear my mind!_

Martin,

I am pregnant. Call me!

Louisa

_Better? God I don't know. I blow my nose and wipe my eyes. The second note is too direct, I think. Time for dinner. Maybe taking a walk did not improve it._

Martin,

I suspect that parenting might not be your long suit, but it would seem that Biology has got in the way. My Biology, for I am pregnant with our baby. The due date is 25 June and I am healthy, and so is the fetus.

Call me.

Louisa

_I reread the third one. Too high and mighty, I think. Technically correct, yet it sounds aloof. Maybe…_

Martin,

You bastard! You got me pregnant!

LG

_Nope. Not that either. Time to watch the news._

Dear Martin,

Thinking back to October your proposal was a bit of a shock, but I gladly accepted. So much so that I let you into my bed and now the results are in. I have a bun in the oven. I am preggers.

Please call me.

Louisa

_Well watching the news didn't exactly help with that one! How about,_

Dear Martin,

I am working and living in London as you know. The school is going fine and I am fine.

So here's the thing - I am pregnant. Now before you wonder, this baby is ours. Yours and mine. We need to talk. I don't want my child to not have a father, even if it seems, her mother and father will not be married.

So, there you have it. A bit of shock, I know but I am keeping the baby.

I am closely following my OB's directions, eating well, exercising; taking care of myself. I hope that you are doing well, and I am so sorry the way that I bolted.

So what do we do now?

Louisa

_I read the last one. It is factual and open, and… shit! It's all crap. Total and utter crap! My shaking hand pries open my handbag and takes out my mobile._

_I'll just call. I can't send Martin an email with this bombshell! Can I?_

_Well bollox. The mobile battery is flat._

_I wander to the desk and fetch my charger and plug in the phone. Damn. Every time I think I get up my courage to tell him… I rub the bump where my waist used to be, and pressing in feel the resilient and fluid-filled chamber inside me. I've felt a few flutters from time to time, must be gas, but no movement. "Quickening" the baby book calls it. Sounds so… medieval._

_The little red light on the phone glows like a candle in the dark. Only the laptop screen and that charging light glow in my bedsit on the third floor of an old building of painted brick at ten in the PM. I can smell a faint smell of garlic from the Italian girls across the hall and hear the clump-clump of the mystery man who lives above me. Haven't seen the guy, but been told he's quiet. Quiet the guy may be but he can be quite noisy up there for at times it sounds like he's jumping on the bed. Maybe he's got a really hot girlfriend or boyfriend._

_Back to the laptop. One more try. I've written to mum, so why can't I write to Martin?_

Dearest Martin,

I am sorry for slinking away from Portwenn the way I did. I just could not stay that near to you considering our history. Plus the gossips kept getting on my nerves. And every time I looked out my rear windows there was your cottage, across the harbor. I finally could not take it anymore - the sense of failure. I am sorry for that as well. If I had tried a little harder and maybe you did too, well…

I had not been feeling very well two months ago and just before Christmas I realized I was pregnant. I'm pregnant with our baby.

That is such a heavy word - pregnant. But I am and we are.

I am keeping the baby and I do not want him or her to be a stranger to their father, even if we aren't together.

My due date is 25 June and have been carefully following the directions for a pregnant mum. Plenty of veg and fruit, no alcohol, light exercise, and rest.

Please call me and we can figure out how you can be involved, if you want to.

All a shock and I hope this does not upset any plans you might have.

But here's the thing.

I made a mistake. Not getting pregnant, although it is unexpected.

I was wrong about you and me. I do love you Martin Ellingham. I will take you as you are and I know I am not the best prize on the shelf either. But who is perfect in this world? Lord knows my mum and dad were not perfect and I suspect yours were not either.

We can make each other happy. It won't be easy but I miss you and the village. Portwenn may not suit you, but I'd like to come home and be there, with you, if that is possible.

Please, please, please call me on my mobile, day or night.

Love, Louisa

_I reread the last one and feel it is about as close to the truth as I can come, but I decide to sleep on it._

_The next morning I re-read the notes and bin them all in disgust. What complete and utter rubbish! Not one appeals to me! And if they don't suit me they won't suit Martin either!_

_The baby flutters under my ribs and reality settles in. I'll just have to muddle through somehow._

_I pick up my school things and look at my calendar. The Head Mistress wants to see me at noon. I wonder what that is all about?_

The End

**Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Productions. I claim no ownership of the TV production and the story here is strictly for personal enjoyment.**


End file.
